Pyrophilia
by Firekyn
Summary: A girl from the fire realm of Muspelheim has pyrokinesis. Primarily self-raised, growing up solitary, she switches names based on how comfortable she is with the people around her in any given moment. This is a character-based story, and will be made somewhat scattered scenes. I will do my best to make them linear, but that may not always be the case. Rated M just to be safe.
1. Pyrophilia 1

She hated this place. Hated it, yet...yet this was her home. The smoke suffocated her, the fire burned, but it didn't leave any lasting damage - not anymore. So she had grown accustomed to it. It was her only option: she could become the fire, or she would be consumed by it. She could summon it now. Just to prove it to herself, she summoned a ball of scorching heat to her palm. With half a thought, she sent it streaking up her arm, across her body until she was sitting in her own personal inferno.

She didn't know her name. She didn't even know if she _had_ one. So she gave herself one. Sort of. It was Phoenix around those who made her wary, Nyx around those she disliked, and Nyxia around everyone else.

Phoenix. A firebird risen from the ashes. Rebirth. Light. Nyx. Night. Darkness. She was light and dark, birth and death. A thousand other opposites and paradoxes that she had given up on naming.

She drew her attention back to her fire. Her clothes didn't burn, not unless she wanted them to, but her hair was. Burning. Not burning away. She had learned long ago of the difference.


	2. Pyrophilia 2

The room was cold. Dark. Unnatural. She shivered. An inferno strained inside, vying to escape. She couldn't let it, not with the woman sitting in front of her. The sole light glinted off her hair, the color rivaling Nyx's fire.

"Who are you?" The woman asked, her voice soft with contained danger. Nyx didn't answer.

She leaned forward. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The choice is yours, but I strongly recommend just answering the questions." The woman said, unfazed. More silence. The woman waited. Nyx stared back.

She tilted her head ever so slightly, listening to some unknown sound. "I got that." she said under her breath, exasperated. "No, you don't need to send anyone." She rolled her eyes. Nyx tilted her head.

"Who are you?" The woman asked again. A pause. "Don't feel like answering that? How 'bout this: Where are you from?" There was a longer pause. Then the door flew open to Nyx's left, and a man entered. "Ward -" the woman started.

The man got in Nyx's face. "She asked you a question, you answer it." He snarled. Nyx smirked. A tactic that had always worked for her in the past.

"You think this is funny?" Nyx didn't answer. He drew back his hand to slap her across the face. He would have, if it hadn't been for the woman. Faster than Nyx could process, she jumped up, and caught his hand.

"You want to punch something, there's a punching bag downstairs." She said. Turning to Nyx, she said, "My name's Natasha. If you decide to cooperate, you can ask for me." She turned to leave with the man.

"Phoenix. Muspelheim." Phoenix said softly.

"What was that?" The man demanded, turning back to face Nyx.

"Shh. Come on." Natasha said, directing him out of the room. She smiled a silent 'thank you' to Phoenix, and left, closing the door.


	3. Nyx

Abandoned

Afraid

Alone

Cold in the embers

Bone dry in her tears

Darkness in her flames

This new world

They said she was gifted

They said she belonged here

They said her home was a thing of the past

They said her flames would someday obey her

So she wished to believe

But she saw her skin, a charred black red

But she smelled her hair, strings of searing heat

But she heard her shoes, the rubber melting to a boil

But she tasted the ash, coating her mouth with each gasp

But she felt the gravel, red slashes through her knees

But maybe she was gifted

For some part of her fought this fire

Fought passing out, so she had to endure forever

Fought the damage to her nerves, so she had to feel each spark

Fought the burns, so there was always something more to char

And she realised it wasn't a gift

She realised it was a curse

She realised where she _was_

She realised her world

She was in Muspelheim

World of fire

And a hellhole of the nine realms

Or at least as far as she was concerned.


End file.
